


Sherlock Is Actually A Girl's Name

by Cinderlily33



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Feminization, M/M, Mostly porn, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn with some plot, Sexual Roleplay, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Spanking, holmescest, slight AU of s03e01 The Empty Hearse, slight spoilers for s03e01 The Empty Hearse, sort of, title is spoiler for s03e03 His Last Vow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 17:25:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinderlily33/pseuds/Cinderlily33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been an age, but he loved seeing the way Mycroft reacted to his longer hair. The way he touched and combed his fingers through it. It brought Sherlock back to those times as a kid, dressing up and being Daddy's little girl. Mycroft was different with Sherlock when they played those games. He was gentle, loving, and kind. He never went on about how he was the smarter one or better than him in every way. He was just Daddy taking care of his little girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock Is Actually A Girl's Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mybrolly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mybrolly/gifts).



> This is my first ever Holmescest story. It's set around the time after Sherlock has been rescued from Serbia by Mycroft in The Empty Hearse. This is a slightly alternate version of the events that happened in that episode. 
> 
> This story has been neither beta'd nor brit-picked. 
> 
>    
> Personal note: I could not have written this without the love and support of my dear wifey Suzy, who has been there for me throughout every step of this story and has not only been my soundboard but also my muse as well. This story is dedicated to her. Thank you for everything sweetie.

Sherlock emerged from the shower freshly clean shaven and immediately wrapped himself in a towel. It had been two years since had been able to enjoy the feeling of bare, smooth skin underneath his finger tips. He had not only shaved his face, he'd also shaved his legs. He loved the way the soft skin felt against his trousers whenever he took a step.

 

He ran his fingers through his long, curly, damp hair and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He picked up a strand of hair, casually studying it. He began to twirl it around his index finger as he held it out in front of his face.

 

“I'll be glad to see this gone.” Sherlock gestured as he continued to play with his wet curly hair.

 

“Shame. I think it rather suits you.”

 

“ _Suits_ me? Mycroft, I look ridiculous.” Sherlock huffed as he lets the errant curls fall back onto his shoulder.

 

Mycroft stood behind him, looking at Sherlock's face in the mirror.

 

“I think you look quite lovely, brother mine.” Mycroft cooed as he ran his long fingers through Sherlock's hair.

 

Sherlock closed his eyes as he leaned into Mycroft's hand, blissfully enjoying the way his brother's fingers raked along his scalp.

 

Sherlock sighed contentedly. “I've missed this.” He turned his head slightly to face Mycroft and looked into his eyes longingly. “I've missed you. Your touch. Your smell. Your _voice_. Do you have any idea what hearing you speak in Serbian did to me back there? That was almost worse than being physically tortured.”

 

“Well, brother dear, I did have to keep up appearances after all. Would've given the game away had I spoken in English, wouldn't I?” Mycroft pressed himself against Sherlock's back as his other hand snaked around and palmed his brother's burgeoning erection. “Of course, I knew what it would do to you.” he teased. “I'd say you reaped the benefits of my going undercover in more ways than one, wouldn't you say?”

 

“Ah yes. The _benefits_." Sherlock stilled, suddenly becoming serious. "You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp.”

 

“I got you out.”

 

No, I got me out. Why didn't you intervene sooner?”

 

“I couldn't risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything.”

 

“You were enjoying it.”

 

“Nonsense.”

 

“Definitely _enjoying_ it.”

 

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow, but remained silent on the subject by changing it immediately. “You're home safe, now.” He stood in front of Sherlock and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling his brother flush against him. Sherlock pressed his half hard cock against Mycroft's trousers.

 

“You have missed me, haven't you?” Mycroft reached up and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s long curls. “My beautiful boy.” He leaned forward and claimed his brother's plump lips with his own.

 

Sherlock was the first to pull away. “I should get dressed, shouldn't I? I assume I'm to be debriefed of the situation at hand as soon as possible.” 

 

“Anthea is gathering intel as we speak. She should hopefully be here within the hour. Well, there are some clothes for you in wardrobe. Please come join me in my office when you are finished.”

 

 

Mycroft left the room without ceremony, leaving Sherlock alone in the bathroom. He quickly blow dried his long curly locks and wiped off any excess water with his towel. The modestly decorated bedroom only had a king size bed, a nightstand, two lamps, and a giant wardrobe. Sherlock opened the doors to reveal not only a variety of expensive suits, but also several skirt suit sets, presumably for Anthea. He removed one the skirts by its hanger and hung it front of his hips while looking at himself in the full length mirror. It had been _years_ since he had worn women's clothing. He'd experimented briefly as a child with his mother's clothes. He loved the way her silk nightgowns felt next to his soft skin. Or how the dresses made him feel beautiful even when the other children teased and taunted him by calling him a 'freak.' Mycroft was always more than willing to play games with him. Sometimes, they would pretend to be Daddy and daughter games. Father was often away on business, so Mycroft was the closest to a father figure he could turn to at that age. Of course, he eventually moved onto wanting to be a pirate, so the dresses and Daddy-daughter games went back into the closet, as it were.

 

It had been an age, but he loved seeing the way Mycroft reacted to his longer hair. The way he touched and combed his fingers through it. It brought Sherlock back to those times as a kid, dressing up and being Daddy's little girl. Mycroft was different with Sherlock when they played those games. He was gentle, loving, and kind. He never went on about how he was the smarter one or better than him in every way. He was just Daddy taking care of his little girl.

 

Sherlock set down the skirt on the bed and went back to the mirror. He ran his long fingers through his hair. He gathered up his hair with both hands into a bunched up makeshift ponytail and admired the way it framed his face in the mirror. He then remembered how much Mycroft seemed to enjoy it left down, so Sherlock let go and watched it tumble around his face and onto his shoulders. He lightly shook his head from side to side, mesmerised by the delicate swoosh of his hair as it brushed along them with each gentle sway. “Yes. I think Daddy would like this very much,” Sherlock casually thought to himself.

 

Sherlock then carefully removed the skirt from the hanger and gently pulled down the zipper. He held it out in front of him, stepped one leg into it and then the other. He pulled it up to his waist and then reached behind his back and zipped the skirt closed. He adored the way the skirt clung to his slim frame. Sure, he wasn't as curvy as Anthea, but he couldn't deny that his rather plush bum filled out the skirt quite nicely. The stark contrast of his creamy white skin next to the black fabric made his legs appear to be even longer. He ran his long fingers down the entire length of his smooth, white legs. Oh how he missed this. The feeling of being beautiful. He wondered if Mycroft still held onto those memories in the same way as he did. Did his brother think back on them as fondly as he did and wished that they were more than just a game? Perhaps an experiment was need to performed in order to find out.

 

Sherlock rifled through the wardrobe and discovered an entire drawer filled with various kinds of ladies lingerie. He picked up a pair of black lace knickers and held them up in front of his face. He cautiously stretched the waistband with both of his hands to test the elasticity in order to figure out whether or not he could fit in them. He bent down to slip into them and then gingerly shimmied them up this legs until he had them pulled all the way up. They fit for the most part. Of course, they could barely contain his manhood even when he was flaccid. He lifted up the skirt and observed how the knickers clung to every part of him. Yes, they will do quite nicely, he thought to himself. He then found a matching camisole and slipped it over his scarred and bruised torso.

 

Mycroft hadn't even acknowledged them earlier in the bathroom. He just pretended as if nothing had happened to him. Perhaps Daddy felt guilty for allowing it to happen. He'll just have to make it up to his little girl.

 

Sherlock finished his lingerie search when he added black lace suspenders and black stockings. He wondered what Daddy and Anthea got up to with all of these naughty undergarments, but it was best to leave the matter for the moment.

 

He tucked the camisole into the skirt. He ran his large hands down the lace, relishing how sexy it felt against his skin. Hopefully, Daddy would find it sexy as well.

 

Sherlock finished the ensemble with one of Anthea's white button ups shirts and a black blazer. He took one look in the mirror and, while he liked what he saw in it very much, he felt there was something missing. Ah ha, he thought. He slipped back into the bathroom and there it was: Anthea's makeup bag. Sherlock applied just the basics; some red lipstick to his perfect bow mouth, rouge to accentuate his cheekbones even further, a little bit of light grey eye shadow to bring out the blues and greens of his brilliant eyes, and add some mascara to his gorgeous eyelashes to complete it. He wanted to look beautiful for Daddy and he knew this was the way to go. He gently scrunched his curly hair into something a bit less messy. To Sherlock’s dismay, he would have to forgo wearing high heels because there was no way he was ever going to fit his large feet into Anthea's shoes. He didn't like to disappoint Daddy, but concessions had to be made.

 

He examined his handiwork in the mirror. “I think Daddy will be quite pleased” he thought. Well, best not to keep him waiting any longer.

 

*******************************************************************************************************************

 

Mycroft sat at his desk re-reading the same files repeatedly, growing steadily impatient with Sherlock’s dawdling. When he finally heard the door click open, without looking up from his files, he huffed, “Do you have any idea how much we...” he trailed off as he looked up slowly at Sherlock entering the room. Mycroft could not believe the sight before him. He'd immediately recognised Anthea's clothing, but the fact that Sherlock was wearing them was an entirely different matter.

 

“Sherlock! What the hell are you doing? And why are you wearing those clothes? There were some suits in the wardrobe that would have been perfectly acceptable.”

 

“You don't like it, Daddy?” Sherlock pouted, sounding many years younger and a tad bit higher in pitch.

 

*********************************************************************************************************************

 

 _Daddy_.

 

He had not been called that in years. Sherlock was just a boy then, dressing up in Mummy's clothes and being 'Daddy's good little girl.' Well, he wasn't always a good girl and he would have to be punished accordingly, usually with a spanking. His cock twitched at the memory of it. He knew it was wrong then, but he couldn't help how his body reacted to doling out those punishments. The day when Sherlock stopped wearing dresses and wanted to play with swords and become a pirate relieved him to no end. Less reason for regular spankings, you see. So he was able to suppress those inappropriate feelings for the time being.

 

As Sherlock grew older, it became apparent that those feelings were mutual. Mycroft held off Sherlock's advances as long as he could, which was until Sherlock's sixteenth birthday. They'd kept their relationship a secret ever since. Putting up the facade of being brothers at war with one another wasn't too difficult an act to keep up. With Mycroft being away so often and Sherlock’s dalliance with drug abuse, they had grown further and further apart. It wasn't until Sherlock was introduced to John Watson that they were able to reconnect again in every way possible. They were brothers again and had rekindled all of those feelings they had thought were long buried in the past.

 

So when Sherlock had a plan to take down Moriarty's network, Mycroft knew he had to become involved. What Mycroft had not anticipated was how much he would miss his brother for those two years while he was away dismantling it. So he learned Serbian, went undercover and infiltrated their network; gaining their trust to the point where he was able to finally rescue his brother and bring him home.

 

Sherlock was safe now. Seeing his brother's battered, bruised and scarred body in the bathroom just about killed him. He had to keep up appearances and not show Sherlock how much guilt he felt for allowing it to go on as long as it did. What could he do? If he had put a stop on Sherlock’s beating it would have exposed the both of them, putting them in further danger.

 

Of course, when Sherlock accused Mycroft of enjoying it while he watched him being beaten... well, he had to deny it. Thankfully, the large coat obscured the raging hard-on he had in his trousers. The only thing that would have made him enjoy it more would have been if he were the one administering the punishment. So he pushed those desires deep down inside and composed himself enough to get his brother out.

 

***********************************************************************************************************************

 

And here he was now, dressed in Anthea's clothes and calling him Daddy once again, clearly _begging_ to be punished.

 

My bad little girl. Dressed like a bloody tart and without my permission. She knows better than to play in Mummy's make up bag without adult supervision. She wants to play with Daddy? Let's _play_.

 

“Sherlock, are you wearing make up?”

 

“Yes, Daddy. Don't I look pretty?” Sherlock preened.

 

Mycroft sighed deeply. “Sherlock, that's not the point. Did you ask Mummy's permission to wear her make up?”

 

'Anthea is Mummy?' Sherlock thought to himself. All right. If that's how Mycroft want to play this, then so be it.

 

“No, but Daddy I just wanted to look beautiful for you now that I'm home. I've missed you so much. Please don't be angry with me.” Sherlock pleaded as he completely immersed himself into becoming Daddy's little girl.

 

“Sherlock. You should know better than to take things that are not yours without asking for permission first. You get over here right now.”

 

“Daddy, no!”

 

“I said you get over here, right _now_!” Mycroft demanded.

 

Sherlock ambled over to Mycroft and stood in front of him, eyes wide with fear and waiting for further instruction.

 

Mycroft slowly rolled his chair back from his desk and slapped his hands on his lap. “Lift up your skirt and lie down.”

 

A single tear rolled down Sherlock’s face. “Daddy, please!”

 

“Don't make me order you.”

 

Sherlock reluctantly lifted up her skirt over her bum and bent herself down to lie over Mycroft's lap. She craned her neck to look up at Daddy hoping her tears could persuade him to change his mind.

 

“Sherlock, this is for your own good. How will you ever learn if your actions do not have consequences?”

 

Mycroft's long fingers grazed over the black lace knickers barely containing his little girl's ample bottom. How much did he want to yank them off of her and show her just how much he truly missed her. No. He had to shake off those feelings for the moment. Sherlock must be disciplined. She's been a rather naughty girl for disobeying her Daddy and not following the rules.

 

“Now, my dear, I want you count them out for me. I believe ten should be sufficient. Let's begin, shall we?”

 

Sherlock scrunched her face tightly as she braced for the first blow. She yelped as Daddy's hand cracked loudly against her lace-covered bum. “One.” she sobbed.

 

Each subsequent smack against her arse felt harder than the last one though Daddy hadn't actually increased the level at which he doling out her punishment.

 

“Nine!” she cried out as she attempted to squirm and shift her way away from Daddy's firm grip. Daddy's hands were so strong and able to keep her flush against him.

 

“Don't struggle, my dear girl. You are only making it worse for yourself. Besides, only one more to go. You can do this.” he soothed as his palm made swift contact with her raw, red bottom.

 

“Ten!” Sherlock wailed.

 

“There, now. That wasn't too awful, was it? Shh, sweetheart.” Mycroft cooed as he stroked his little girl long, curly hair. “You took your punishment so well, my darling girl. And for that, you will get a reward. Get on your knees.”

 

Sherlock blushed at Daddy's request. She didn't know why Daddy wanted her on the floor, but she knew better than to disobey him once again. She slid off of Daddy's lap and got onto her knees in front of him. She tilted her head up and smiled at Daddy, eagerly anticipating what was going to happen next. She was quickly answered by Daddy's hands reaching for the button on his trousers and undoing them. He then pulled down his zip, slipped his hand into his pants and pulled out his thick, hard cock. Sherlock stared at it in wonder.

 

“Daddy? What's that?”

 

“It's your reward, sweetheart. Why don't you come a bit closer so you can claim it?”

 

Sherlock shuffled on her knees until she was nestled between Daddy's thighs. She placed her palms onto Daddy's lap to steady herself and then flicked up her eyes to gaze into his.

 

“May I, Daddy?” she gestured to his cock.

 

“Of course, you may, my dear. It's yours.” Mycroft smiled.

 

Sherlock wrapped her long fingers around the base; delighting in how the skin felt velvety against her palm. She tentatively stroked upwards with her fist wrapped tight around Daddy's cock. “Like this, Daddy?”

 

“Yes, my dear. Just like that.”

 

Sherlock glided her thumb over the slit, gathering up pre-cum to ease her way as she continued to stroke him. She sat mesmerised by the amount of pre-cum leaking from it. Curiosity getting the better of her, she bent down and laved her tongue along the head, gathering up the fluid dripping out of it.

 

“ _Sherlock,_ ” Mycroft groaned pleasantly.

 

“Do you want me to do that again, Daddy?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

Sherlock licked a broad stripe up the underside of Mycroft's thick cock. Sherlock teased every inch of Daddy's prick with her soft tongue, savoring the salty taste.

 

“Sherlock, honey, would you like to try something different?”

 

“Like what, Daddy?”

 

Mycroft grinned. “Well, my dear. Do you enjoy sucking on ice lollies?”

 

“Yes, Daddy! Very much!” Sherlock exclaimed excitedly.

 

Mycroft gripped hold of his spit-slick cock and said, “I want you to think of this as an ice lolly. Can you do that for me?”

 

“Yes, I think I can.” Sherlock giggled.

 

She took hold of Daddy's cock and was about to take it down her throat when Daddy interjected, “One more thing, sweetheart. Do not use your teeth, all right?”

 

Sherlock chuckled. “Of course, Daddy. Don't be silly. That would hurt and I don't want to do that to you.”

 

Mycroft sat there stunned, being slightly caught off guard by Sherlock's almost kind words. “You're such a good girl, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock smiled and opened her mouth nice and wide for Mycroft and tried to take as much of his fat cock down her warm, welcoming throat. As per Daddy's instructions, she sealed her lips tight around his cock and bobbed her head up and down on it just like it was a delicious ice lolly.

 

“Slow down, sweetheart. If you keep that up we'll have to end our fun a lot sooner. You wouldn't want that, would you?”

 

“Of course not.”

 

“Why don't you stand up straight for me so I may get a good look at you?”

 

Sherlock picked herself up off of the carpet and stood up to her full height. Remembering that her skirt was still hiked up, she swiftly smoothed it back down her body.

 

Daddy's eyes were brimming with lust as he looked up and down her slim frame.

 

“While you shouldn't have disobeyed me by dressing up in Mummy's clothes, I do have to say that you look exquisite in them.”

 

Mycroft's hands roamed Sherlock's hips, snaking around behind her and cupping her bum. He dragged her closer to him, pressing his own hips flush against hers. He rolled his hips, pleasantly rubbing their erections together.

 

“You've been rather naughty since you've been away, haven't you? Such a bad girl.” Mycroft purred as he combed his fingers through her long, curly hair.

 

“Yes, Daddy. I've been lost without your guidance. Help me. Make me better, Daddy.”

 

Mycroft leaned away from her, grabbed her hips and spun her around until her back was towards him and bent her over his desk. He slowly slid his hands underneath her skirt, lifting it up over her bum. He leaned in close, his hot breath in her ear and whispered, “I'll help you, Sherlock. Daddy's here now.” Mycroft slowly removed the lace knickers Sherlock was wearing, dropping them onto the floor. He then gingerly opened the drawer just to the left of them and quickly grabbed the tiny bottle of lube from within it. Mycroft clicked the bottle open and liberally coated his index and middle fingers with lube. He spread Sherlock's arse cheeks open and teasingly stroked his slick index finger along her tight hole. Sherlock whined and pushed back on his finger hoping to create any sort of friction possible.

 

Mycroft swiftly smacked her bum. “Patience, darling. All good things et cetera.”

 

“Daddy, _please_.” Sherlock begged.

 

“Well, since you asked me nicely...” Mycroft cooed as he slid his finger deep inside of her.

 

Sherlock bucked slightly as his finger breached her hole. Her breathy moans grew steadily louder with each thrust of Mycroft's finger inside of her. She hissed softly as she felt him add another lubricated finger, stretching her further.

 

“Please Daddy, I want more,” Sherlock moaned as she slowly fucked herself on his fingers.

 

“Are you sure, my dear girl? You have already taken so much.”

 

“Daddy, I want you inside of me. Please, Daddy. I want you to make me feel good.”

 

Without another word, Mycroft removed his wet fingers, causing Sherlock to groan at their loss. She was soon rewarded by the sound of the lube bottle being re-opened and the squelching noise of lubricant being applied to Mycroft's fat cock.

 

Daddy lined up his erection with Sherlock's loosen hole and carefully pushed until he was fully seated inside of her tight heat. Sherlock's soft sigh of pleasure gave him the encouragement to continue as he began to languidly fuck her, savoring the way her body enveloped him completely.

 

“Harder Daddy, please!” Sherlock pleaded breathlessly.

 

Suddenly remembering that time was of the essence, Mycroft firmly gripped Sherlock's hips and pounded mercilessly into her, Sherlock's passionate cries echoing throughout the office with each subsequent thrust into her. Daddy then slid his hand around her waist and gripped her leaking cock, stroking it hard and fast.

 

“Oh Daddy! Yes, Daddy!” Sherlock exclaimed wantonly as Daddy fisted her cock and fucked her arse simultaneously. Not being able to hold on any longer; she came hard, shooting thick ropes of come onto the desk and the floor below her. Her arsehole clenched tightly around Mycroft's cock, drawing his own orgasm from his body as he spilled deep inside of her. Mycroft continued to milk Sherlock's cock until it had gone soft in his hand.

 

Mycroft gingerly removed his own softening cock from Sherlock's arse and flopped onto the chair behind him, out of breath and satiated. He quickly yanked some tissues from a nearby box and used them to carefully catch the semen slowly seeping out of her still sensitive arsehole. He then made quick work of cleaning himself up and tossed the filthy remains into the bin. He then slipped his penis back into his pants and redid his trousers. Mycroft grabbed the hem of Sherlock's skirt and slid it down her body, covering her up once again. He then tugged lightly on her hips, pulling her towards him so she could sit in Daddy's lap. Sherlock sighed softly as she felt Daddy's warm hands wrap around her waist, keeping her body flush against his as he peppered kisses along her long neck.

 

“Daddy, I...” Sherlock started to say before she was interrupted by the door to the office being slowly opened.

 

“Sir, I'm sorry that took so long. I...” Anthea apologized before looking up and seeing the two of them lounging in Mycroft's office chair, briefly stunned by the sight before her eyes.

 

Mycroft patted Sherlock's stomach, gently nudging her off his lap.

 

As if a switch had been flipped, Sherlock had stopped being Daddy's little girl and quickly jumped up of Mycroft's lap and stood next to the desk without a word.

 

Mycroft readjusted his posture; clearing his throat before he addressed her. “Thank you, Anthea. Would you be so kind as to find my brother something to wear in the meantime. He certainly won't be able to leave these offices dressed like that, will he?”

 

“Of course not, sir.” She smiled. She then turned to Sherlock and said “I shall fetch you a dressing gown in the interim while the barber takes care of your hair.” She paused. “Shame, honestly. It suits you.” She then slipped out of the room, leaving them momentarily alone.

 

Mycroft picked himself up out of his chair and pressed himself close to his brother's body. He gently ran his fingers through Sherlock's long curls and sighed wistfully, “Truly a shame, indeed.”


End file.
